


More Than Skating

by DreamsComeTrue (toomucherin)



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 14:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14380734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomucherin/pseuds/DreamsComeTrue
Summary: “I think I’m in love with you.” “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”





	More Than Skating

**Author's Note:**

> I got this one line stuck in my head as a prompt and couldn’t get it out, so here I am, writing RPF. But, full disclaimer, this is an entirely FICTIONAL scenario and I want these two crazy kids to be happy and healthy and fulfilled whatever that looks like for them, live your life, be free (but also you should date because you’re in love, I don’t make the rules, I just call it how I see it.)
> 
> (More honest disclaimer, it’s also completely possible I just have a lot of anger I needed to work through, and here we are.)

“I love you, T.”

It was a typical Tuesday evening for them, and this was a typical statement for him to throw out after she’s just done something that makes him laugh. So she didn’t think much of it, at first.

They were at her house in London, sprawled out in her living room. She was sorting through her inbox on her laptop, highlighting sponsor deals she thought were worth replying to, and deleting the rest, while he was switching between a pre-season Leafs game on TV and an old Audrey Hepburn movie airing that night during commercial breaks. For Tessa, of course, though he’s the one who knew it was airing tonight, not her, but she won’t point that out, just like he won’t point out that she’s paying for extra TSN channels when he’s the one who cares about watching hockey games. Facts they have collectively agreed to misremember later, like so many others through the years.

They weren’t cuddling, because they’re not a couple, and he’s dating Kaitlyn, but they were touching, they’re always touching. Her back leaning against the armrest, her legs stretching out across the couch, her toes tucked under his thighs because “my feet are cold and your butt is warm; I don’t need socks when I have you, hush, Scott.”

The Leafs had just scored and Scott had done a victory chair dance that had sent Tessa into a laughing fit before randomly asking him how he feels about floss. “Glides between your teeth like we glide across the ice?” For some reason, most likely the second beer he was on, this had caused him to let out a laugh, one of the deep ones she liked best, that started low in his stomach before tumbling out of his mouth, his face breaking into that stupid, goofy grin of his, his eyes sparkling as he leaned back and looked at her. And that was when he dropped the love confession.

“I know you do, Scottie,” she replied with an eye roll, reaching for another chocolate from the mug she keeps full of them on the coffee table. He shifted slightly, her toes losing their warmth, and pulled both of her hands into his, his gaze suddenly intense and serious, as if they had just stepped onto competitive ice.

“No, Tessa, I think I’m in love with you.”

She pulled her hands out of his before he could even finish the sentence.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

There was a long pause, his face unreadable, before he took a deep breath and repeated, “Tessa, I am in love with you.”

“That’s not funny, Scott.” Her eyes narrowed.

“I’m not joking.”

“Then you’re confused, because you are definitely not in love with me. You’re dating Kaitlyn, for Christ’s sake.”

“Actually, I’m not sure that I am.”

“How can you not be sure if you’re dating someone? Didn’t you guys just sign a lease? Is living together not considered dating, is there a new label for that, I wouldn’t know…” She trailed off, her words dry and bitter, catching him off guard.

“No, there’s not— we’re not—I mean—I. I don’t want to be dating Kaitlyn.”

“Then stop dating Kaitlyn, but I don’t see how that has anything to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you.”

He tried to reach for her hands again, but she needed to be anywhere but locked in his gaze, so she propelled herself off the couch and into the kitchen, looking for something, anything to clean, and choosing to ignore his last statement.

“Tessa.” He had followed her from the couch to the kitchen, standing awkwardly in the doorframe. “Tessa, can we please talk about this.”

“There is nothing to talk about, Scott.”

“I just told you I’m in love with you, you don’t think we should talk about that?”

Her hand stilled for a moment, the soapy sponge dripping suds into the dirty pot from her eggs that morning, one drop, two, before she’s scrubbing it again, faster this time, harder.

“Tessa, please.”

“I think you should leave.”

“We’re seriously not going to talk about this? You’re really just going to just ignore me?”

Her eyes flicked back to his for the first time since they were on the couch, her gaze hard and sharp. “Don’t,” she spit out. “You don’t get to talk to me about ignoring things. Not to me.” She could feel a quaver creeping into her voice, and she took one slow breath, eyes closed, before opening them slowly. “I would like you to leave. Now.” And then as quickly as her eyes had been on his, they’re back on the pot.

He stood there, in her kitchen while she furiously cleaned dishes he knew could have easily been loaded into her dishwasher, before he slowly, finally, breathed out a simple “Okay,” returned to the living room for his backpack, and walked out the door.

As soon as she heard the latch close, she dropped the glass she was holding back into the sink, gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned white. She heard the familiar turn of the deadbolt as he locked her in with his key, and she let out a single, strangled sob, before sinking down to the floor, wiping her soapy hands on her jeans before clasping them over her mouth, tears silently streaming down her face.

Scott. Fucking Moir.

—

She can’t remember the first time she decided she loved him, probably on one of those early 5am mornings, as they skated slow loops around the rink, warming their legs, not speaking except through the squeeze of their hands. But she can’t forget the first time she realized he wouldn’t love her back, not like that.

They don’t talk about 2008 much. When they do, they have their script to follow. They hadn’t always needed a script. There’s a lot of things they hadn’t needed before.

They were both afraid of hurting the other, they were both trying to protect each other, it was the hardest period of their partnership, but they made it through and are stronger than ever, now.

That’s what they say.

What they never bring up, not even in private, not ever to each other, are the whispered confessions the night before her surgery, sitting in his car, exposing herself far more deeply than the cuts the surgeons would make in both her shins the next day.

Her, laying her heart bare. She could lose skating, but she can’t lose him, she wants him, needs him, loves him. And him, kissing her sweetly on the forehead, sending her to bed, promising they can talk about this later, kiddo (doesn’t he know she’s not a kid anymore?), but she doesn’t need to worry about it tonight.

And then, after... well. After.

She heard his answer loud and clear in his silence. Even if he wasn’t kind enough to say it to her face. Or at all. Anything at all, first for days, then weeks. And weeks on weeks.

She heard about the new partners Marina kept trying to test him with, and she heard about how he refused to skate with them anymore. And she also heard that Jessica was back. For real this time. It was serious this time.

He may have been too much of a coward to reject her to her face. But actions always did speak louder than words. He’d protect their skating partnership to the ends of the earth, even if it meant he had to stop skating, too. But that’s the only partnership with her he wanted. So she learned to be okay with that. She forced herself to be okay with that.

She had spent years learning to be okay with that, trying to find any way to be okay with that, with anyone, with everyone, with no one, and now—And now? Who the fuck did he think he was, waltzing in seven years later and deciding NOW he’s in love with her?

She’d learned the story, and memorized her part. He couldn’t just switch roles on a whim.

—

“Okay, you want to talk, Scott? Let’s talk.”

She barged into his apartment the next morning, earlier than she would usually be awake, much less talking, but that’s what happens when you can’t sleep, apparently.

“...good morning?” It was a question, a statement, a hope, as he dropped his spoon back into his cereal and stared at her, dumbfounded.

“What do you mean you’re in love with me?”

“Um, shit, Tessa, can I at least put some pants on first?”

“Nope, my conversation, my rules, my turn.” She shook her head and crossed her arms as she spoke. “What do you mean you are _in love_ with me?”

“I think that’s pretty clear?” He stood up from the table, standing awkwardly in the middle of his kitchen in his boxer briefs and an old Moir Skate Shop T-shirt, and ran his fingers through his messy morning hair.

“Since when?”

“Since, I dunno, since forever, Tess.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“I’m sorry that you don’t believe how I feel about you or don’t want me to feel that way, but you can’t tell me how I feel, T.” He started to walk towards her, and she took a step back.

“What about Jessica? Cassandra? God, what about Kaitlyn, Scott?”

“I didn’t love them, I don’t- I could never love them the way I love you.”

“What about two thousand and eight?”

“What about it?”

“The night before my surgery? The night _after_ my surgery, the _weeks_ after, the _months_?” Her voice broke as she said months, and he instantly reached out for her, but she stepped back again, holding her hands up. “No,” she breathed out, closing up again. “Answer the question, Scott.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, letting out a long sigh and walked to sit on the couch. He dropped his head between his knees, hands around his neck, and took another long breath as she watched and waited, arms crossed again.

“I was confused, Tess, I was a stupid kid—“

“You were twenty one.”

“I was an stupid adult then, Tessa, I was an idiot.”

“I told you I loved you and you didn’t talk to me for _two months_.”

“I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry? Do you have any idea what that did to me?” She had been rooted in place, but started pacing, voice rising sharply.

“I—“

“No. You don’t. You couldn’t. Because you weren’t there, Scott. I needed my best friend, my partner, my person, and you weren’t there.”

“If I could go back and change it—“ he started.

“Well you can’t,” she snapped.

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I fucking know that? I’ve regretted that every day since, Tessa. Trust me, I hate myself more than you do for that.”

“Well you have an odd way of showing it.”

“Tess, will you please just listen to me for a second?”

“Why now, Scott? What changed?” She questioned, ignoring his request.

“I—god, I miss you Tessa. So damn much I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes.” She started shaking her head as he spoke, rolling her eyes as she let out a dry laugh.

“Of course. You miss skating.”

“Yes, but it’s more than that, I miss all of it, all of you.”

“You miss skating, and I’m part of skating.”

“You are more to me than skating, Tessa.”

“No—no. I told you, I _fucking TOLD YOU_ seven years ago, seven years, Scott, and you, YOU decided, you made the _choice_ that we were just skating partners, just business partners. _You_ decided that, you did that, Scott. And you can’t... god, you can’t just change your mind now, it’s not fair, it’s not fucking fair.”

Her composure broke in the middle of her rant, and angry, hot tears were beginning to spill down her face. Scott immediately rushed to her side and tried to pull her into his arms, but she braced her arms against his chest, every muscle rigid as soon as he touched her again. "Tess, please," he whispered, his eyes pleading with her to let him comfort him, but her resolve held.

"I can't--you can't touch me right now, Scott." Each word took painstaking effort. "Please, just. Stop." She stepped out of his embrace and moved to sit at the table. Neutral territory. No risk for submitting to the temptation of collapsing into him like they've so often done on his couch, or hers, over the years. The table was perfect. Awkward, uncomfortable, just like this conversation was going to be. She had established a wall around her heart, built it sturdy and strong, and it felt like the earth would collapse under her if she started breaking it down now, after all these years. And she couldn't risk loosening the bricks, not when it was clear that Scott had no fucking clue what he really wanted or needed.

He watched her for a minute, sitting at the table, palms flat against the cool wood, taking slow deep breaths, before he moved to the seat across from her.

“It’s not just about the skating, T,” he whispered finally, once the silence between them became too much to bear. Tessa took a moment to look at him, to really look at him, head bowed, shoulders slumped, dark circles under his eyes. And then it all clicked into place.

“When did Kaitlyn break up with you?” She asked, careful to keep her voice level.

“What?” He responded, taken aback.

“When. Did Kaitlyn. Break up with you,” she repeated, her voice calm and steady.

Briefly it seemed that he was going to protest her assertion, but after a beat he simply sighed and replied “Last week.” For a moment her gaze softened. There was a part of her that would always hurt whenever she saw him hurting, and it took more control than she cared to admit to not end her line of questioning and rush to comfort him the same way he had just rushed to comfort her. This was part of their problem, she thought, that they both can’t seem to disentangle their own emotions from the other. She was pretty sure it couldn’t be considered healthy, how emotionally codependent they were on each other.

“What happened?”

“What didn’t happen?” He huffed in reply. Tessa merely raised her eyebrows and waited for him to continue. “Everything? Nothing. She says that we, that I—“ He paused, rolling his eyes slightly. “She thinks I wasn’t committed to the relationship the same way she was.”

“Were you?”

“Clearly not, T, seeing as I just told you I’m fucking in love with you last night.” He blurted, rubbing his hands over his face before bringing them to his lap, fidgeting in classic Scott fashion. “I thought she was crazy at first, but she was right, I realized she was right, I’ve been in love with you for so long that it feels as normal as breathing to me, I didn’t even realize I was until suddenly I couldn’t, I haven’t—we haven’t been together and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it, T, I really am, but I know it now and I can’t go back to pretending and ignoring anymore.”

“Back up, she told you? She told you what, Scott? Are you seriously telling me you realized you’re in love with me because your now ex-girlfriend told you?”

“Um… yes?”

“Seriously, Scott?! What the fuck is wrong with you.”

“I—“

“Actually, no, I don’t even want you to answer that. I don’t know what I expected. Of course you think you’re in love with me. We’re finally living our own lives, _I’m_ finally living my own life, doing my own thing, and you’re finally actually losing me, and competing, and the adrenaline and you can’t deal. And then fucking Kaitlyn comes in and what? Bestows you with some revelation like the all-knowing God she apparently is and now it’s all so fucking clear, you’ve loved me all along, right?”

“Tess—“

“I’m not done, Scott, not even close. You can’t suddenly drop declarations of love because you can’t figure out the difference between missing what we used to have together, the rush and thrill of training and competing and actual, tangible, real emotions, and because your girlfriend literally, what, sent you to me with some fucked up fake realization you couldn’t even figure out yourself? No. No thank you, I want no part of that.”

“Tessa, it wasn’t like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, which part did I get wrong? You’re dating Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn breaks up with you because she thinks you’re in love with me. You decide you _are_ in fact in love with me, after seven years of making it _very_ clear you had no romantic interest for me, because, what? Now poor Scott has no girlfriend and no skating partner and doesn’t know how to be fucking alone for more than _one_ fucking week before he has to go crawling to the next available option for him to cast all his emotional needs onto. Did I get that right?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Anger had begun to radiate off him in the middle of her outburst, the tension almost palpable in the air between them.

“Exactly what I said.” She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, daring him to challenge her with her stare.

There was a tense moment where they both stared unblinking at the other, before finally, he broke, leaning forward onto the table and covering his face with his hands.

“Fuck, Tessa, is that really what you think of me?” She could tell in his voice he was on the brink of tears, but she couldn’t let herself feel bad for him, not yet. She’d come this far, she’d finally started ripping the bandage off this gaping wound she had gotten so good at hiding, and she needed to finish the job. But her voice was softer when she spoke again.

“What else was I supposed to think, Scott?” She could see his brow furrow in confusion through his hands, and continued before he could respond. “You had to know I had a crush on you, and I get it, we were still kids and it wasn’t the right time, then. But then you went back to Jessica right when I needed you most, and you never once brought up again what I told you before my surgery, and that was fine, I was fine with it, because skating is what we wanted most, we wanted gold, and we got that, and I was okay with that… but I couldn’t just cut off how I felt about you even though I tried, so hard—with a bunch of manipulative assholes, by the way, and that’s obviously not your fault but it didn’t help—and I thought, briefly I thought that maybe, just maybe when you finally really did end things with Jessica that maybe our timing could finally be right, that maybe you might have finally realized that I could be more than just your skating partner, that maybe you wanted that, too, and then Cassandra showed up, what, a month later? And you jumped straight from her to Kaitlyn, I’m not blind and I’m not stupid. You don’t know how to be alone, and you’ve never wanted to be with me, until now apparently, but I will not be stupid enough to get sucked into your emotional post-breakup neediness because I’m the next most obvious and convenient option. I deserve more than that, Scott.”

The words poured out of her like water from a broken dam, and hung in the air between them. He was quiet for an impossibly long minute before he looked her straight in the eyes, replied “You’re right, you deserve so much more than that,” and stood up from the table, walked to his room, and closed the door, leaving her sitting there, alone.

—

She’s not sure how long she sat there, alone at his kitchen table, while he did god-knows-what in his bedroom. She thought about leaving, she tried to leave. But she couldn’t leave. They’d never had a fight this bad before. Scott was her best friend. At the end of the day, no matter what was said or done between them, she still needed her best friend. If she walked out of that door now, she was afraid she may never walk back through it again. She couldn’t go another two months without talking to him, or, God forbid, even longer.

She sat there for minutes, or maybe hours? Long enough for her anger to slowly dissipate and the sadness to hit, and for the morning sun to rise high enough that it reflected off the rings she was playing with in small flares of light across the ceiling and walls. She distracted herself as she watched the patterns, wondering if she tried hard enough could she manipulate a rainbow onto his wall and wondering what else could be transformed if you shone light onto the exact right spot. She sat there until she finally couldn’t sit there, alone, any longer.

She stood outside his bedroom door, straining to hear what he was doing on the other side, before finally knocking softly.

“Scott?” No response. “Scott, can I come in?”

She still didn’t hear a response, but she slowly cracked open the door, shining light into the dark room. Scott never bothered to open his blinds (“My bedroom is for sleeping and changing and sex, why would I need open curtains for any of that, T?”) and he apparently hadn’t bothered to turn on his light when he retreated from the kitchen. She watched him for a moment before entering. He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread, arms on his thighs, his head hung low. When she flipped on the light switch, flooding the room with light, he slowly raised his head to look at her.

“Tessa, I really don’t have it in me to have another fight right now.” His voice was soft and ragged, his eyes weary.

“No yelling this time, I promise,” she replied softly as she walked towards the bed. “I just want to talk, for real, with my best friend. Is that okay?” He gave a small nod in reply, and she lowered herself onto the bed next to him.

“I really mucked this up, eh?”

“Not just you,” she responded, and reached over to grasp his hand. She felt his fingers tense under hers before his hand relaxed and gave hers small squeeze in return.

“You’re right, T. I haven’t been fair to you, not for a long time.” She frowned, but moved to rest her head on his shoulder. He might be the source of her pain, but he was also the source of her comfort, and after all the yelling, she really needed the steady support only he could provide her.

“I’m so sorry, Tessa,” he continued. “I swore to myself that I would never hurt you when we were kids, but it seems to be all I’ve been able to do. I was scared, _am_ scared—scared to cross that line with you, and scared that it might break us and I knew I could never recover if I lost you, so it was easier, it’s been easier to just… let myself believe I didn’t love you like that. I’ve been so stupid, for so long, but I want to make it up to you now, please can I make it up to you now? What can I do to fix this?”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure that you can.” Tears had begun to silently stream down her face as she listened to his apology, acknowledging the wounds they’d both ignored for so long. He angled his body towards her, pulling her other hand into his as well, forcing her to look at him.

“Can you at least tell me if you still feel—if you still _want_ me, want _us_ like that?” His eyes bored into hers, begging for a chance to hope, and fresh tears poured out of her eyes.

“Of course I do, Scott, I never stopped,” she cried. “But it doesn’t make any of what I said earlier not true.”

“But if I love you, and you love me, why can’t we just love each other? What’s so hard about that?”

“That’s not fair.”

“But I do, I love you.”

“You just broke up with Kaitlyn.”

“Because I love you.”

“Because she _told_ you that you love me.”

“But she was right.”

“I need to know, I need to see that you really do mean it, feel it. That it’s not just because you’re sad and lonely, not just because you miss skating or having a person. If you really love me, then prove it.”

“Prove it how?” His gaze was earnest, and she briefly realized she could ask anything of him at this exact moment and he would do it. She took a second to consider her options before responding.

“Don’t date anyone.”

“I don’t want to date anyone but you.”

“Well, you can’t date me until you prove to me that you can not date anyone. For more than a month, Scott. I can’t just be the next person you jump to because you have a pathological fear of being alone.” He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again, allowing her to continue.

“And you have to go back to therapy, seriously, because I can’t fix whatever it is that makes you not able to be alone, Scott, and I’m not going to take responsibility for that, it will drown us both and you know it.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

“And no skating,” she added at the last minute.

“What? I can’t not skate, Tessa, I need to skate.”

“No skating _together_ , at least for a few weeks,” she clarified, realizing even her own self-control might not reach that far. “I think we both need to see that we _can_ be us without it. That it’s not just because of the skating.”

He took a long beat to consider her terms, searching her face for anything left unspoken. His own face was unreadable, but he seemed satisfied with whatever he saw in hers.

“Whatever you need, T.”

She shifted her position to lean her head back on his shoulder, hands clasped between them. They sat there silently for several minutes, syncing their breaths with each other, both lost in their own thoughts.

“Hey, T?” He broke the silence, nudging her with his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Wanna go the the Leafs opening game with me next week?”

“As friends?”

“As friends.”

“Okay.”

—

They barely made it a month before he dragged her to a rink, not the one in London, not even in Ilderton, but farther, out, where it could be just the two of them. Not with Sam, not to choreograph a new program, just them, no agenda, on the ice. They skated slowly, hands held tightly between them, before he started twirling her around the ice, quickly moving into old step sequences and lifts they could do in their sleep. As they began to tire, he pulled her in close and nuzzled his nose into her neck.

“It was never just skating, and it’s always been skating, Tess,” he whispered in her ear. “Because of it and despite it. I could never separate the two, and I would never want to. It’s you, and it’s me, here, together.” She lifted her head to look in his eyes, before she leaned forward and pressed one soft, simple kiss to his lips. As she rested her head on his chest he pressed a kiss onto the top of her hair, continuing to sway gently.

“Hey, T?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I date you yet?”

“Not yet.”

The swayed a bit longer, comfortable, content.

“Hey, T?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna try for 2018?” She pulled back, surprised.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously. But not because I miss competition, which I do, and not because I miss the adrenaline rush, which I do, and not because I miss spending time with you, which I do, but because I think we both deserve a better ending. We deserve to end with good memories. I want to fix us, and I want to give you something better than Sochi to end on, Tessa, because we’re so much better than that, and I’m not ready to be done telling stories with you. Let’s do it for us, just us, this time.”

“For us,” she repeated, considering his words. She laid her head back down on his chest before she responded “We’ll see.”

They stood there, swaying softly on the ice, for several more minutes before she she grabbed his hand and pulled him into another step sequence, weaving lines in the ice back and forth across the rink. There was more to talk about, they both knew it, more to decide, but for today, for right now, it was just Tessa and Scott, on the ice, together, and for today, it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> For the curious, I did spend (too much) time making sure this fit reasonably into the known timeline for these two. This fic takes place on Sept. 29 (there really was a pre-season Leafs game televised on TSN4 that night, I checked, because I have a problem and I need help) and Sept. 30. I know Scott was last seen with Kaitlyn in late August, but as far as I know we don’t actually know exactly when it ended, so I’m taking liberties that it happened after Tessa and Scott’s second golf tournament on Sept 21. They really did go to the first Leafs game of the season together in Toronto a week later on Oct. 7, and they really did work on choreography Oct. 19 and 20th in Montreal with Sam, and they were spotted skating in Exeter on Oct. 27 (why Exeter, trying to go somewhere out of the way and off the beaten track?) and then again on Oct. 28 in London. So while this is obviously totally fictional, I did do my best to make it tuck into their actual real timeline. Shout out to the real MVP balletfever89 for providing this timeline for my obsessive research needs (http://balletfever89.tumblr.com/post/136171345990/post-sochi-so-far)
> 
> This is my first RPF, and my first fic in a while- I'm much more of a consumer than producer, fic-wise, so comments, support, suggestions are definitely appreciated! :)


End file.
